


A Couple Things

by herbailiwick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Phone Sex, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:51:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John shaves his legs. Mycroft has noticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Couple Things

I swallowed hard and reread the text. It didn't really say what I thought it did, did it?

_You shave your legs, John?_

The question was so unambiguous. 

Somehow, that magical thing had been done and I couldn't tell where the text had come from. For a strange moment, I thought it might have come from Sherlock, who was studying a bag full of thumbs. He looked so intent, though, and I couldn't see his mobile at all. 

Someone was watching me. 

Oh. 

 _Mycroft?_ I texted back. 

_Yes, sorry. -MH_

I felt relieved, a bit at least, that I knew who was texting me.  _What do you want?_

_That's not a very good question, John. -MH_

Alright, what did _that_ mean? I slowly stood up. I peeked over at Sherlock to make sure he wasn't suspicious as I began to head upstairs. I didn't want to be texting anyone about this so close to my poor, oblivious flatmate. Best if I just hid in my room and told Mycroft to fuck off.

"Who was that?" Sherlock asked, and I cursed under my breath.

"Er...Stephanie," I lied, and he didn't call me on it cause he's a decent friend. I hurried to my room and closed the door.

_In my room. I'm going to need you to call so I can tell you to fuck off._

Mycroft called, much to my relief. I hadn't been sure he would.

"Mycroft," I started.

"Fuck off?" he said breathily.

Here's the thing about Mycroft's voice: I like it. He always sounds so non-threatening, but I know the threat's in there, somewhere, that I just have to dig for it. His voice sounded, well, as if he was turned on. Given that we'd been talking about my legs and whether or not I shaved them, I found myself doing nothing except listening to the silence on the other end of the line.

"Why did you want me calling?" Mycroft asked, and it was practically a purr. It stirred up a tingle of sensation in me, starting at my left ear.

"Why are you looking at my legs?" I ground out.

"A very good point, John. I wonder why," he said. He sounded more calm. Less lustful. "Could you tell me?"

"You're either running a social experiment on me or you've got the wrong idea. Or you're a pervert. Take your pick," I said.

"Mm. You think I may have the wrong idea? What idea do you think I have?" 

I didn't know. I just thought he was a pervert.

Alright, there's tension between Mycroft and me. It started out as fear that he'd get to Sherlock, but it had turned into tension of the sexual kind. It had been harmless, but I wasn't sure I could call it harmless after the conversation we were having.

"Men shave for athletics all the time. Even you must know that, and you don't seem the sporting type."

"I'm not and they do," he agreed. I actually thought it meant I might be off the hook. 

"Right, so...fuck off?" I said.

"But you're special, aren't you?" he said.

I couldn't say anything. My cheeks felt like they were flaming. "Pardon?" I ground out.

"You aren't like other men." His voice was quiet, nearly a whisper. "Your mannerisms about it give you away. You should see the way you...handle yourself."

"Now hang on!"

"I don't mean...that," he said, and he chuckled softly. "Your legs, John. Legs. The ones you shave, remember?"

I bit my lip, then licked it. I did shave my legs, and it wasn't for athletics. 

"I was just curious when I texted," Mycroft's voice murmured in my ear. "But now...."

"Now?" I shifted uncomfortably. This was affecting me.

The voice was a heavy whisper. "Now I'm quite turned on."

I sucked in a deep breath through my nose, then let it out. "That makes both of us," I said. 

"Oh John," he said fondly. I rubbed a hand across my face.

"What are we doing?" I said. "What the fuck are we doing?"

"You should let me do it."

There was a thick tension in the air. "Do what?"

"Shave your legs."

The phone fell out of my hands and onto my lap and I groaned as I picked it up. I was incredibly aroused, and it would have been clear to anyone.

I hung up and gave into the sensations building inside of me.

I ignored the text which was, interestingly enough, lower case and unsigned with no punctuation to be seen.

_spoil sport_

***

I felt bolder the next night. I hadn't seen Mycroft and he hadn't texted me since his all-lowercase text. I decided to issue a challenge, when I felt that Sherlock was well and truly preoccupied downstairs.

_You were bluffing. You talk a good game, but you wouldn't really want to do what you said you'd do. -JW_

He called, and I answered, waiting for him to speak first.

"You can't even say what I said I'd do, can you, John? You're ever so sweet." If I hadn't known him, hadn't known that he actually meant that, I would have been absolutely hacked off to hear someone refer to me as sweet. As it was, I remained silent. 

He raised his voice to a firm, authoritative tone I'd only heard him use around Sherlock. " **I want to shave you.** "

I actually gasped. I felt myself jump in response, down below. "Do you?" I asked, trying to sound less overwhelmed than I felt.

"I have a rather nice bathroom," he said, voice rough. "I could set it up just for you."

"You want more than that, though," I finally managed.

"...What?" the voice was soft again, surprised.

I collected my thoughts. "You don't want just the quick bit of passion, yeah? You want...you know, couple things."

"'Couple things'?" he said with disdain.

"Well, you know."

He didn't say anything.

"Er," I tried, "you want us to be together, properly."

"Do you think me shaving a grown man's legs is proper?"

I sucked in a breath. "No," I admitted. "But, ah, you still want us together." At least, that's what I'd thought.

There was silence for a very long time.

"Mycroft?"

"Mm," he said in response.

"Something the matter?" I wished he'd just tell me where it was that I was wrong. Sherlock would have just gotten it over with.

"You're ruining it all," Mycroft said with a smile in the tone. "I know you don't want to, what was it, do any 'couple things' with me, but I thought perhaps I could show you a good time. I do care, you know."

I wasn't sure what to say. I couldn't say I wanted to, for sure, but I also couldn't say that I didn't want to either. "I'm pretty hard," I said.

I could suddenly hear him breathing, though I heard nothing else.

Finally, "John?" he whispered.

"Yes?"

"I would _really_ like to...er."

"Yes," I said.

"Yes?"

"Yes. Although...." I sighed. "It might be best to take care of ourselves again and then I'll stop by as soon as we can arrange it?"

"No, tonight."

"I'm hard as a post. Sherlock will know," I said, annoyed.

There was more silence. 

"Tomorrow," I said.

"John," he pleaded, sounding so desperate I regretted my commitment to waiting.

"Please understand," I said.

It was a furious few minutes that followed the phone call, and then I was spent.

***

 _Will I need to bring anything?_ I asked.

_An overnight bag. -MH_

Mycroft wanted me there the whole night? It was supposed to be a one-off, wasn't it? Curiosity fulfillment, and all that. I typed, _Isn't that a couple thing?_

_We're going to make this count. -MH_

Mycroft Holmes really never did anything half way. 

***

I told Sherlock I was all set to stay at Stephanie's, though I think the look he gave me meant that, somehow, he knew Stephanie was more of a Stephen. As long as he didn't realize Stephanie was actually more of a Mycroft, I was okay. 

I met the car out of the line of sight of Baker Street. The closer I got to Mycroft's, the more I was starting to have regrets. Talking to a man on the phone when you're all sexed up is one thing. Talking to Mycroft Holmes in his presumably flawless home with its great lighting and the suaveness of its master was another thing entirely.

I was ushered in. It really did have great lighting. 

I am absolutely not kidding when I say that there were bloody rose petals on the ground leading to the bathroom upstairs. This was an increasingly stupid idea, coming here. I followed the red and pink trail. It wasn't very...me. I don't like a lot of flash, or a lot of trouble. But it was Mycroft's home, and he could have put rotting thumbs on the floor and I still wouldn't have had any say.

"John," he said happily. The bathroom was quite a sight, with the largest tub I've ever seen in person and a warm, plush carpet floor. The tub was sunk into the ground a bit, at a nice height for Mycroft to sit down next to it on a carpeted step and watch me. His jacket was off, for once, as were his socks and his shoes. I paused in my observation of the room to stare at his feet for a moment. They matched his hands, is all I'll say, and I'm rather fond of his hands. 

I pulled off my socks and shoes too, and my jacket, then sat down near Mycroft. 

Mycroft sat up a bit straighter, making sure he appeared as if he was listening. I already knew he'd be listening.

I had to be honest with him. "Mycroft, as appealing as the idea of you shaving me is," I began, and tried to figure out how to explain that I didn't just want a one-off.

"John," he said suddenly. "I'll take anything."

"What?" That had given me pause.

"I want to do it," he said, and his eyes were alternately staring through the carpet and boring into my soul with a sheer intensity I could hardly equate with Mycroft, or at least not readily.

"O...kay?"

"Even if I just get to, ah," he looked away, "shave you," he looked back, "that's alright. I promise I won't ask for more. You're here already, after all. You can leave your pants on, and I promise I won't do anything." He ran a hand through his hair in nervousness. "I ask nothing in return except that you let me."

I blinked a bit. "Well, what I was going to say," I said carefully, "is that I don't want just a one-off. I think we could try to make couple things work for us."

"I can already think of a couple things that work for me," Mycroft said slyly, glancing at my legs, and I knew my face was heating again.

"Come now, back on subject," I said with a smile I forced myself to do away with.

He sighed deeply. "I want everything. You were right about me. I want you to be mine. It's not selfish if one doesn't demand the things he wants, so I won't say it's selfish, but it's a bit...ambitious, I know." He shrugged. 

"But, no, it's not. I mean," I curled my toes into the carpet a bit, "I want to see how things go with you, like a proper relationship. I think we'll be okay. We get on well, and neither of us gets bored in relationships, right?"

"I lack the data to be sure of that when it comes to romance, but in general I would have to agree with you," Mycroft said. 

I smiled. When I smile at Mycroft, it's often a really stupid smile. I can't help it. And anyway, his isn't so wonderful either. Except, you know, for the fact that it is. Makes me _feel_ wonderful, anyway.

"So it's not a one-off, then?" I asked, needing to make sure we were clear.

Mycroft leaned in close to me and said, "I believe you are one of the most fascinating and devilishly handsome men I have ever met, and I would have to declare myself rather doltish if I didn't leap at the opportunity for more, when you've asked so very nicely and you're so very close."

I dragged him closer and kissed him within an inch of his life, til he panted at me and gave me that look of wonder that I find to be an ego boost when it comes to Holmeses. 

And then I stood and shucked my trousers. Pants too.

Mycroft leaned back against the side of the tub as he watched me, stunned into silence as I approached.

"Now," I said. "I'm here to see a man about a shave?" 

He sat still, eyes roaming over my legs in a way that made my toes curl. 

"Mycroft, dear?" I said, smirking in amusement. I felt quite powerful.

He slowly turned to reach for the bag of supplies he had, eyes still locked on the curve of my left knee, and he said, "I have everything we need right here." 

"I'd expect nothing less from the most dangerous man I've ever met," I teased, leaning over to start the taps. As I straightened up, I realized he was staring at my backside. I was going to get a lot more self-confidence, yeah. 

I went about getting properly naked, ignoring the scarring on my shoulder. Mycroft wouldn't mind, I knew. He wouldn't say anything. He was too polite. Hell, he probably found it hot or something, simply because the scars were mine. He was like that.

I reached out to brush my fingertips over Mycroft's jaw. He swallowed hard. "You're the most dangerous man I've met also," he said, and we both believed it.


End file.
